The Arrangement - Careena 1
by Corim
Summary: The arrangement is my first short piece following Careena, my character in a Middle-Earth based DnD campaign. Far in the future, the numenor nation of Andor, the elves of Lindor, and others have assembled at Hammerfall to confront the orcs invading the Dagorhand. However, politics has left Careena du Tierethor in need of new options... specifically a husband.


**What follows is the first piece i wrote as fanfiction for what is, essentially, a Dnd campaign set in a farflung future of Lord of the Rings. Technically canon to the campaign itself, this piece still ultimately expresses fanfiction Towards Middle Earth.**

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It was supposed to be another typical day for the Lady Careena Du Tierethor, Acting high seat of House Tierethor, Left Hand of the King, Judge Slayer, ranger, warrior, woman. Her red hair swayed in the air as she strode forward. Typical days were actually quite common for her now, though their form was not what it once way.

Careena sighed, rubbing her neck as she made her way through the corridors of the building. Officially it was the prince's residence, thus explaining the guards at every corner. They ignored her, as she was a common presence there. She was tired today, she'd not had much sleep the night before, dealing with an alert over a recent orc raid on a village fairly close to Hammerfall. It was time for her usual morning report. Not to the prince, however.

Careena was one of the few aware of a hidden truth about this building. The King of Andor himself resided within its walls, close enough to hand to be at the front of what was now happening in the Dagorhand, but hidden away, safe from the many assassins after his life… not unlike the former assassin who had sworn fealty to her. Tanan was a conundrum, one she herself did not understand completely. He claimed he was utterly in love with her, but she had never met anyone who acted less like someone madly in love. He was polite, respectful, subservient, and utterly sure that he did NOT want to become anything more than her servant. It was something she had heard of in old stories, but having it confront her in reality was… unexpected. She was still adjusting to it.

The King's study was around the next turn, as unadorned as every other room in this building. She approached the room's door, which as typical, had no guards. The door was ajar. "My King she is an unused resource!" the voice of Lord Tywin, the King's secretary, came out of the room. Careena paused to listen.

"I fail to see how I am not using her, Tywin. Careena has accomplished much on my orders, and I certainly haven't been holding her back from danger," the King's voice replies.

"She is a woman in the prime of her youth. The prime of her childbearing years, yet she is unmarried and it is open knowledge she is bedding a commoner ranger under her command! If she has not found a husband for herself, she should be offering to accept one you arrange for her, to strengthen the realm," Tywin's voice countered. He wanted to marry her off? What? That.. that two faced bastard of a man, her inner voice screamed in rage. She herself, melded against the stone, making no sound, only listening intently. Her fist, meanwhile, had balled, shaking. If he said much more, she might stride in and punch him...

Her inner voice continued, raging against Tywin for judging her choice of bedmate. At least she was not bedding her own brother, as his children had done. Careena listened intently as the king responded. "I will not simply arrange a marriage for her for my own convenience, Tywin, nor even for the realm. And, well… who would marry her? She's publicly known to not be a chaste woman, she's got a temper like fire, she's spent more time living in the wild than society, in recent years, and she's a widely renowned warrior. She'd outshine almost all of the eligible bachelors in the surrounding kingdoms!" Careena was shocked, though perhaps she should not have been, to hear herself described in such a manner by the king. Her hand drifted to her heart, which beat fast. Somehow, hearing it said in that manner, by someone she trusted, hurt far more than the accusations that had occasionally been thrown her way by various officers and nobles since she had come to Hammerfall. She unclenched her fist, her rage replaced by pain.

A new voice answered the King, someone she had not even known was in the city, much less visiting the king. "Many would be willing, your majesty. A warrior queen is not unheard of, and many men would not object to a beautiful young woman, even one with battle scars, who is not a virgin. Some might even see that as a perk. Even without her virginity, Careena is 5th in line for the throne, the heir and acting head of House Tierethor, your good left hand, and holds a seat on the King's council. The trade and wealth of her house are also to be gained by such an alliance, and many men would think to take over much of the politics of the house for their new wife, usurping most of those positions and gaining access to the wealth of her house, and its honor and history, by taking Careena as a wife. Also as your majesty must admit, she is quite beautiful, and many a man would be jealous to have a wife so pleasing to the eye. They would be blinded to her temper and history by the strengths gained by taking such a woman in line, as it were." The voice belonged to that of Morthane, the Steward. His daughter was to marry the Prince in a few weeks. Both his role and the wedding could explain his surprise presence.

The King took far longer to answer than Careena liked. "I do not possess the authority to force her to marry. Nor do I wish to try," he responded finally. Careena let out a tiny sigh of relief, having held a breath without knowing it.

Tywin and Morthane were not done, however. Morthane responded quickly to the King's argument. "Her mother could, I think, persuade her. She has much experience with an arranged marriage, considering Careena is the result of one. More, she understands the costs of love vs the gains of marriage for something more to yourself, don't you agree, your majesty?" Morthane concluded, a hint in the tone of his voice that he meant more than he said. The King sputtered for a moment.

Tywin picked up before the King could respond to Morthane. "There is a larger duty to the realm, as Morthane implied. She is a servant of this kingdom, and of your majesty. She has no plans to marry at this time, nor does she seem to have the intention to make any. Were these times not as they are, and were her own house not in its current straights, she might have succeeded in marrying for love. But her house needs the political allies such a marriage could bring, and the kingdom needs the economic stability the right marriage would bring. She owes that to the kingdom, as part of her duty as your Hand, and in repayment of what you have done for her father, her mother, and herself. Despite its relative wealth, house Tierethor would likely have collapsed, and lost all its power, without your majesty's support. This is a way to repay that debt."

"I…" The King began, pausing and swallowing audibly before continuing. "Much of what you say is true, Tywin. Yet what, precisely, do you mean by economic stability from the right marriage?"

"Our coffers are tight. The campaign in the Dagorhand is, in the short term, costing us much money and taking troops off their farms. Even with the addition of farmhand refugees out of the Dagorhand, our own farms will not produce what they would in times of peace. Our trade through the Dagorhand is greatly damaged, and we cannot expect their crops to supplement the food we will lose, and then think of the food we cannot now trade away by sea and land, since we face shortages in our own lands. We need a stronger economic alliance with our near allies. The elves, the kingdom of Dale, Rhunor, even perhaps an easterling lord, or a southern princeling. A marriage to one of these could secure better trade agreements, lowered taxes, higher priority, lowered prices…" He trailed off, his point made. Even the logical portion of Careena's mind had to admit his many accurate points, but the emotional part of her recoiled by the attempt to control her life such an arrangement would constitute. Even the King was, she sensed, steadily folding to the continued arguments by Tywin and Morthane. Disturbed, angry, thoughtful, Careena turned and walked away, intending to explain that she had taken sick… which she had.

She quickly moved out of earshot, missing the King's final decision. "You make excellent points, my lords, but I am resolved that I will NOT go forward with such an idea without the lady Careena's consent. I have no right to force her, I believe, so I will NOT try. However," he continued, waving down Tywin before he could make further objections, "I will allow this if she agrees. You may persuade her, or at least attempt to. If you succeed, we can move forward with this idea. You may prepare a list for me to review, in the event that you succeed in persuading her, but I do not believe you will.

It was on the morrow, as Careena was still conflicted by what she had overheard, that she received a message from the royal Secretary, Lord Tywin. He requested to speak with her. Careena sat, rereading the message, which was worded less as a request and more as a summons, in the tiny study of the house given to her in Hammerfall. Nicolai was out on watch with the rest of his squad, and the other members of the Night Wardens (who were, with the exceptions of Alauron and Lanche, more mercenaries than anything else) were out, pursuing their own private interests and amusements, leaving her alone in the house. She had not yet left for the day, and had not shared her bed with Nicolai the night before, too wrapped in thought for love making.

She frowned, staring at the letter, then stood and began to dress. She needed to speak to someone, and there was only one individual she felt she could speak with at this time. The prisoner, Tanan. He professed to love her, and it was her heart that rebelled most against this whole affair. She stepped out of the building, nodding to the two northmen brothers who stood guard at the entrance. They were the only ones there, and had little to do with the others. They were there for the money, and with Ryroth absent for the moment, they had no connection to the other members of the two companies under her command.

The city was coming alive as it approached midday. Refugees moved through the city, begging, looking for work, or if they had found work, working. New houses were being built in the city, others carried packages and wares for the merchants now arriving in Hammerfall. The market was on the opposite side of the city from the prison, which had four levels, and Tanan was in the deepest. She stuck to the side streets, avoiding the debris, the construction, the people as they moved about the city on their typical day. Patrols marched through the city, mostly the expanded city guard, but occasionally Andoran soldiers. She also saw a few off duty soldiers about, but she did not wish to be disturbed, so she dodged those as well. After a while, in which the walk failed to clear her head, she reached the prison.

"Lady Careena, come to see the prisoner?" asked the guard inside the door. He was the keeper of the keys, and had watched over Tanan since his internment in the lowest level. His name was Bernerd.

"Yes, and I do not wish to be disturbed. Unless the Lord Martel comes to fetch me, I am not to be interrupted," she commanded. Bernerd was not aware the King was in Hammerfall, but he WAS aware of the Lord Martel, and Martel was typically sent to fetch her for the King. She was let into the outer cell, and the door was shut and locked behind her.

Tanan, clothed in simple brown robes, was seated in meditation on the floor of his cell. Tiny horns curled from his head, while his hooved feet were folded before him. His skin, too red to be human, had a strange contrast against the cold stone of the cell, and his tail was the only sign he lived, as it twitched from right to left and back. He said nothing, nor made any sign acknowledging her presence, until she had taken a seat on the simple stool.

"You are troubled," Tanan observed, opening his eyes. "What has taken hold in your heart, my lady?" he asked, concerned. The warmth in his voice put her more at ease than one might expect, near a dangerous prisoner, but Careena could not find it in her heart to distrust Tanan. Though the King and others were not yet convinced, Careena already trusted Tanan.

She did not answer at once, unsure how to begin. "I believe my future is my own…" she finally said. "I will not allow my fate to be taken by anyone. I will not be controlled," she stated, her voice growing firmer.

Tanan smiled at her. "Of course. How could you be anything else, but someone who decides their fate? If you were not, you would never have accomplished what you have, and would have been defeated when your face was taken from you. What has brought forth this statement of the obvious?" he inquired, blunt as always.

"The lords Tywin and Morthane have convinced the King I should be given in marriage for political gain for Andor. That my husband should be selected without my consent or my input, that even my heart must be given for Andor, not merely my life. That no part of my body, my identity, belongs to me. I hate it, I cannot stand for it, yet… yet there is another piece of me, that knows they are right. My own choices in love have been terrible, unwise, foolish. I have loved, or thought I loved, four people. One is Nicolai, who now shares my bed. I do not love him, however, I know that now. Before I was a foolish girl, fresh run from home, naive. Now I… I can trust him to hold me at night, and I do not object to the pleasure i gain by sleeping with him to get him into my bed. But that is all. It is not love. The second… He sought to control me, to use me. He would have turned me into a monster." She paused, tears beginning to come from her eyes.

Tanan moved, slowly, reaching a hand out of the bars, palm up. "Give to me your hand, dearest lady. I will lend you my calm, if you permit." Trembling slightly, Careena extended her own hand, resting it in her own. She was not certain what he intended, but it never occurred to her he meant her the slightest harm.

Slowly, the sobs that had been building at the memories brought to the fore subsided, replaced by the steady beat of Tanan's pulse. Calm once more, though her eyes still had tears, Careena resumed her story of terrible love. "The second man, he seduced me with kindness, but all the while, he wished only to capture me, to ransom me to my father for wealth and gain. I… I killed him to escape. I also had to kill the other, when he came to collect me from the ransomer, for it seemed the man was selling me to more than one party. The third man, the fourth that I slept with, was a kind older man, who gave me a place to rest when I was weary of travels. We joined only once, to repay his kindness. He… he was surprised by my offer, but his touch was warm. He sent me on my way the next day, saying he regretted accepting my offer, for it abused my vulnerability to do so. I never saw him again, for he begged me never to return, lest I tempt him again. I consider him in most ways to be my greatest mistake."

Careena paused again, for a while, thinking. When finally she continued, her voice was carefully controlled. "The last, I lived with for more than a year. He was steady, and I needed steady. However, as quickly as I fell in love, I fell out of it when he tried to control me. He did not wish me to travel, to leave the house, to take risks, to do anything, really. Finally, I simply left him, and he tracked me down. I killed him when he tried to rape me," she said in a flat voice, without emotion.

"I tell you this so you will understand… I do not trust myself with love. I have survived, and accomplished much, but… I do not trust love. In many ways, a political marriage to someone who can, at the least, be my friend, is the best dream I could hope for. Though I may never love him, i might find myself able to trust him, and certainly I could share my body with him, and give him children, for that is almost how I regard Nicolai already, though I do not want his child. But.. I cannot accept this, that I should be forced into the marriage," she concluded, falling silent, feeling only the steady pulse of Tanan's heart though his hand and wrist.

Tanan was silent for a time, smiling at her reassuringly, accepting. He did not judge, not her, though she felt certain any other would have received harsh words. Finally, he spoke to her. "Fate belongs each to us, and let none take it from us. But fate given freely is another thing, and it seems to me that is the distinction of this war between heart and mind. If your fate is your own, and belongs to no other, then you will consent to give yourself to one you do not love, for the sake of things you do, if you approve of him. But you will not be forced. Do not let them force you, but I believe, dearest lady, you will find peace with this idea if they do not try to force you. Have they yet tried?" he inquired.

Careena blinked, turning to look at his face in the torchlight. Of course they had, she wished to say, but…"No, not strictly yet. I have received a request, little less than a summons, to go before Tywin, who proposed the idea. I overheard them speak of it yesterday, as I went to report to the King. The King was reluctant, but he seemed all but convinced when I left, and I believe Tywin summons me to explain the situation to me."

"Or, perhaps, he wishes to persuade you. Is the King really such a man that would allow them to force this upon you? Or does he merely recognize the same sound arguments I believe you yourself have understood, and would allow the matter if you but agreed without forced coercion?"

"He… he would not force the matter, but…"

"You left yesterday before the matter was entirely resolved, did you not? Speak to the king regarding this matter. If he intends you to have every chance and right to refuse, you might accept with grace, and if he intends to force you, he is not the man you think him, and should BE refused," Tanan said simply, echoing the words already inside her. Having another agree with her settled her heart on the matter. She could accept this, if given a choice, or she could refuse, if one was to be denied to her. It accepted both halves of her reaction to the idea.

She smiled, and kissed Tanan's hand. He blushed deeply, and withdrew it in shock. "Thank you, Tanan, for listening to my heart. I will not forget your kindness," she said, and knocked on the door. Shortly, it was opened for her.

"Did all go well, Lady Careena?" the master of the keys asked her.

"It did Bernerd. Thank you. Please be sure to treat Tanan with respect, as he continues to be most cooperative," she instructed Bernerd, stepping out of the cell.

He bowed. "Of course, my lady. As you command."

She left the prison, making her way towards the King's suite, intending to ask of him his intentions regarding the matter. It was a short distance from the prison to the large building in which the King resided. Inside however, she was surprised to find the Lord Steward Morthane waiting for her.

"My dear Lady Careena du Tierethor, greetings," he said, more warmly than Careena would expect. She took this to mean he intended to tell her of the arrangement, and wished to butter her up, in so far as he was capable, beforehand. He nodded his head to her, but did not bow. That was because his position as Lord Steward made him at worst her social equal, and in at least some respects her superior.

As was her custom, Careena gave the tiniest of bows in return. "My lord Morthane, greetings. I had not known you were in Hammerfall," she replied, falling into step beside him as he set off. They were, it seemed, going to the King's study, which both surprised Careena and simplified matters. "I wish to speak to you of a matter, but his Majesty has requested we speak in his presence, to prevent any misunderstandings, and as for my presence, the wedding required I meet with his majesty over a few small matters." Morthane continued. Odd, Careena thought. So the King wished to be present for the matter.

They spoke no further until they arrived at the King's study. Morthane held the door for her, and then followed her inside the study. The Lord Tywin was not present. The King stood up as she entered, smiling to see her. "Welcome, lady Careena. Are you well again, your message yesterday of a cold concerned me. I would not have you brought low by such a foolish thing as a cold." He then did something that caught her just slightly off guard. He hugged her, something he had done only rarely. Was this all to prepare her to swallow some bitter pill? She returned the hug uncertainly.

"Thank you your majesty. What did you wish to witness Lord Morthane speak to me about?" she jumped straight to the point of the matter, adopting some of Tanan's bluntness in the process.

The King nodded. "Lord Morthane, you may explain." Careena turned to Morthane, awaiting his explanation of what.

Morthane nodded to the King. "Yesterday, Lord Tywin raised a point to the King and myself, regarding you being unwed despite being in your prime, at the perfect age to be married. He suggested that a suitable marriage, one beneficial both to your house and to the realm as a whole, be arranged for you, since you seemed disinclined to make such arrangements yourself. While his majesty and I found many points on which we could agree," He continued, seeming to confirm only Careena's fears and worries, she resolved to let him at least finish speaking, since she had failed to do so the day before.

"... your permission." She blinked. She'd missed his last statement.

"Please repeat that, Lord Morthane," she requested.

"I said the King has expressly forbid us to arrange anything without your consent on the matter as a whole. I quite agree, though I admit my reasons are more rooted in simple logic. You are a strong person and a tremendous asset to the realm already. Attempting to force you into a marriage like this entirely against your will, even if it could be done, would end in a disaster. It would undo the gains of the marriage quickly, and end in divorce or worse between you and your new husband. This idea cannot work without your willing cooperation, so I have come here to seek it of you. I understand yo…"

Careena cut him off before he could continue. "I accept."

"...u will have misgi… you accept?" Morthane blinked in surprise. "Already?"

"I overheard all your arguments yesterday. The cold was a lie, an excuse to avoid all three of you while I sorted out my own thoughts. I have done so. Your desire for my consent and cooperation was all I required before I was willing to agree to the idea. It is sound. However, I will have the right to turn down offers from anyone and everyone. I will have a full say in who I marry, but I promise, I will marry someone beneficial to the realm, if any such decent person can be found. Do you agree to my conditions, your majesty, lord Morthane?" Both of them were silent for a brief moment.

Almost as one they nodded. "Of course Lady Careena. That is completely reasonable," the King responded.

"As i said, your willing cooperation is absolutely key. If that is what it takes to receive such cooperation, I will accept those conditions. I have brought a list compiled by Lord Tywin and Myself. Might I review it with you?" he asked, holding up a sheaf of papers from the King's desk.

"Certainly," Careena agreed.

After the three of them were seated, and tea was brought, Morthane began. "The first on the list is prince Alauron, whom you already know well. I thought you might be most amenable to him, because of your working relationship and friend…" Careena held up her hand to stop him.

"The Elves never agree to arranged marriage, especially not those from Lindor. They hold marriage as far too sacred for that, and do not bother to mention Prince Legolas, he would never agree either. Nor would any of those from his kingdom. If one does not love, one does not marry," Careena informed him. The King could only nod in agreement. For a moment, Morthane seemed as though he would argue, then he simply moved on.

"The second option I would ask you to consider is Prince Bran VII, of the Kingdom of Dale. He is the younger son, so a marriage to him would bind both his kingdom and our own, as well as your two houses, but House Tierethor would have priority, since he is not heir to the throne, while you are heir to your own house. Though an issue could arise if his Brother dies, Dale might choose to have one of the daughters take the throne, or if you bore him more than one child, Lady Careena, one child might be heir to Dale and a second heir to House Tierethor. Economically, Dale has much wealth in gold, jewels, metal craft, and food. They are the center of all trade in the north, especially the lonely mountain. An alliance with their ruling house that might also provide a gateway to improved relations with the Dwarves of Erebor." He paused and looked at Careena, gauging her reaction.

She nodded to him. "You have explained the political and economic gains well enough. I understand why you would suggest him, but can you tell me what kind of person he is, Lord Morthane?"

"An oddity," he replied, apparently fully prepared for that question. "By the standards of his people. They like him, well enough, and reports indicate he is a good person, but strange. He is a warrior like yourself, though not as proficient or well regarded. He is sensible though, if spirited. His chief oddity is his practice of alchemy. He is not nearly as proficient as some I could name, such as Stede of House Termaine. Still, he has some skill with it, which has earned his reputation as an oddity. He also loves to experiment. I am told he can often be found at the source of strange explosions."

Careena considered for a moment. "I would be willing to meet him, I think. Forgive me for being a little hesitant to agree immediately, but the idea is still new to me. I will consider him seriously, however," she replied. Morthane went on to detail several more people he thought she might find acceptable. One was an Easterling prince named Gaara, a rising power Morthane felt should be headed off early. That is, an alliance now would give them better positioning, and Easterlings are even more used to arranged marriages than Andorans were. There was a Haradrim warlord who had typically been amenable to trade and such with Andor. He had several sons she might marry. There was even a middle aged Nordman Jarl on the list, who was said to be fairly kind, for a nord, and who would wish to marry Careena for her warrior skills and to produce an heir, lest he be ousted by a younger man. He would primarily have brought military power to Andor, something Morthane regarded as a lower priority.

Morthane preferred the first three on the list for her. Careena herself was uneasy at marrying a man twice her age, but she also wasn't entirely pleased with the idea of marriage to someone so wholly foreign as the easterling prince (who, she learned, had traveled into Ozzimar with the Associates and helped slay the Balrog. This was how he earned his power and prestige) or a haradrim warlord's son. Bran of Dale thus topped her list, for while the two nation were not very alike, they were still largely similar, especially compared to all other names on the list.

Bran offered the greatest number of potential benefits, according to Morthane, while sacrificing the least in terms of Careena's freedom or position at court, and offered most to her house itself in terms of gain, excepting only the marriage to the Northern Jarl, who offered the least to the Kingdom as a whole. The King made no comments regarding any of Morthanes suggestions. He watched, but left the discussion, and decisions, to herself and Morthane.

Ultimately, Careena chose four candidates to be approached about the matter of an arranged marriage, including Gaara and Bran. Morthane would handle dispatching messengers, though it would be a few days before the messages would go out. It could be many months before anything was finalized, especially with the royal wedding going forward soon.

Careena left that day with a sense of peace regarding a piece of her future. It would not be love, though it could become love, she supposed. But somewhere inside, she was certain that she would not love the man she married. Perhaps she did not want to, because love was painful, and she had enough pain as it was. An arranged marriage was safe, secure, it took the fear of decision away, some of the uncertainty. Now she had to worry about surviving what she feared was to come. A war was brewing, and while she believed they could win, survive, she knew there was a lot to do to make certain of it.

In another part of the world, not all that far away, yet not too near, a party of men and dwarves travelled. They were coming from a mountain kingdom, and the human city that bordered it. These were the Lonely Mountain, and the Kingdom of Dale. Within that party, two brothers talked as they rode their horses on the country roads in no man's land, on the other side of the Dagorhand.

"Father told you to remain behind, Bran," spoke Baen sternly. He was the elder brother, heir to the throne of Dale. "There is a lot of unrest right now, he didn't want us to both go."

"Yes, and since you have been outside the kingdom before, you get to go, while I get stuck at home… again. I want to see the world beyond our borders," his brother countered. Baen was often said to look even more like the legendary Bard the Bowman than their own father, who was named for that famous King of Dale. Bran, by contrast, had his dark hair cut short, and a small goatee he maintained meticulously. He sometimes dreamed of having a beard like the dwarves did, but custom dictated that he refrain until his 20th birthday from growing a full beard, as while he was a man, only a full man was allowed such a beard. It was an odd custom that had developed only after the dwarves returned to Erebor. He had green eyes, gained from his mother.

"It's dangerous Bran, and you are not experienced in the wilds. You have always been close to home. It is less than a day's ride to anywhere within our own borders." His brother's expression was stern, grim. He was lecturing again.

Bran sighed. "I have the brew to help, and I am hardly helpless, even without it, Baen. You and father and mother worry too much. Our sisters have more freedom than I, and only the twins know how to fight." He smiled broadly, being quite proud of the strange mutational reagent he called "the brew."

"That foul concoction? It makes you seem a monster when you drink it. You get less rational, and the changes it induces in you… you fight incredibly when you drink it, but you look more an orc and less a man when you drink it," Baen countered. Insultingly, there was a note of fear in his voice. "It scares the people, this madness you get mixed up in."

"Oh please brother, don't act as though it is all that fearsome. I am still me, whatever I look like. And with it I have defended our people several times from incursions by orcs. The dwarves do not find it odd, either," Bran added, his voice betraying his annoyance. He would not look at his brother, but stepped up his horse's pace a moment, so that he was ahead of his brother.

Baen sighed. "Dwarves are not your people, whatever you might think of the matter. What they find acceptable is no way to judge what is alright for a prince of Dale. They are neither our lords nor our subjects, merely our friends and allies," he tried to explain for what was, he thought, the 82nd time. It was a frequent discussion point with his brother. He knew Bran wanted to be allowed out, as their mother had always kept her younger son close to home. In truth, he was not opposed to the idea, he had merely wished to point out their father would be unhappy with Bran going off without permission. The conversation had drifted too far from his original point to guide back to it, however, so he let the matter drop.

Bran was not ready to quit the matter, however. "I want to see new places, new people, Brother. I want to meet these Andorans in their own lands, not in ours. I want to see this rumored beauty of a princess and bride to be, meet the prince. I especially hope to glimpse the Lady Careena. She is rumored to be an incredibly beauty, a great warrior, and a firebrand," he said, a leering look on his face at the thought.

Baen shook his head. "Do not go trusting these Andoran's simply because of their physical beauty. You know what those nobles are like. Think of how they treated mother," he admonished Bran.

Bran threw him a dirty look at having his daydream interrupted. "I know how they treated mother. I also know how they treat us on our own soil. I want to see it with my own eyes, brother. They cannot all be as bad as you claim, simply because of how a few have treated mother. I want to see for myself." He nodded, to add emphasis to his statement. "Besides, I bet father sent you because he thought you might meet a girl. You know he wants you married already. He wants us both married, really. You are twenty-seven brother, more than old enough," Bran added smugly, gleeful at having what he felt was the upper hand on his brother.

"Even if he does, I won't. Not amongst the nobility. I didn't like the women who came to Dale, I doubt i will like the ones back in Andor any better," Baen sounded convinced of himself. Bran shook his head, sighing and returning to his daydreams about the firebrand warrior Careena.

The night after Careena and the king and Morthane decided on her possible future husbands, she asked Nicolai to take to her bed, something he was happy to do. He had always been eager to share her bed, beautiful as she was. He took great pride in it, and among the rangers and other soldiers, it was a matter of considerable esteem for Nicolai to share her bed. She believed he knew why she slept with him, and he was fine with that. It was not love. It never had been, she thought. It was lust, sex, pleasure, a sense of contentment, that feeling of being held in someone's arms during the night. She loved the pleasure, but what she loved most of all was that feeling afterwards, of peace in strong arms. She got something less strong and fulfilling lying next to her cat Alpine. The feeling was stronger in the arms of Nicolai (or Violet), and the sex was a bonus.

She woke up the morning after, stepping naked from the bed, not bothering to cover herself with the sheet. Of the others, only two would dare try to see her naked, and since they had already done so, several times, despite repeated punishments, she had ceased hiding from them. The first time Fred and George had spied on her and Nicolai's lovemaking, she had screamed and nearly strangled them. The second time, she'd had them switched. The third time, she'd had them switched, then almost fed them to Alpine. After that, she'd given up, secretly enjoying their eyes on her. She was fairly certain, however, the pair were not watching this morning. They'd lost interest quickly once she'd ceased trying to prevent their voyeurism.

"Are you alright, Careena?" Nicolai asked her, from the bed. She was naked looking out the window, and Nicolai quite enjoyed the view. "You were especially eager last night, and that usually means you expect something you don't want in the morning."

She turned to look at him, yawning and stretching. "I've got to send you into the Dagorhand today. I need you and the squad to reconnoiter as much as you can. We don't know where the enemy is, and I need you to search for any signs of them. We need to know all we can before they attack, and the King underestimates the danger, and won't increase the patrols. Sending you is almost the limits of my authority, especially since I cannot go myself. Also, That may have been our last night together. Yesterday, I gave my consent to be placed in an arranged marriage that will benefit my house and the Kingdom."

Nicolai nodded. "Because you are sending me out, by the time I return, it may be that you are betrothed, and to take me to bed after you are betrothed, while intending to see the marriage through… I understand. Still, you are not yet betrothed, and the sight of you in the morning light has, ah… excited me. Perhaps, one last time, for good measure?" He asked leering, opening the sheets and inviting her in. She smiled, and climbed into them.

Xxx

The Troll swung its club at Bran, but the boy was ready for it. He deflected the blow off his shield, then, grinning, smashed the Troll's head with the rim of his shield. It staggered backwards. When the archers put a trio of arrows in its face, it toppled over.

Bran looked around at the rest of the fight. A pack of Orcs and mountain trolls had attacked their company on the road, but the warriors of Dale and the Dwarves of the Mountain were ready for them. The fight was evenly matched, and Bran guessed the orcs would retreat.

"Press forward!" he shouted. He had not yet taken a dose of his brew, but he briefly considered it. He discarded the idea as he saw an orc with a pike charge him. "Come on, ya bastard!" He shouted defiantly, readying his shield. Except for his brother, he was guarding the only three archers still alive. The orc archers had died first, but they had reached several archers in the town guard before anything could be done.

The Orc was met, not by Bran's shield, but by Gullen, one of the dwarves. His own pike neatly removed one of the Orc's legs, dropping him to the ground. Bran watched an archer put an arrow in his eye, and turned to survey the rest of the fight. Still even. The orcs would give up soon, calling the fight too much work.

Then he saw the black cloaked figure in the tree, preparing to drop on top of Baen. "Brother! Above!" He shouted, throwing his shield. Baen snapped his eyes upwards, letting off a shot that went wide of the orc. Bran's shield ricocheted off a tree branch, knocked the figure off balance, then flew back to him. "Wolves take you," he shouted at the figure, when an arrow shaft sprouted through the back of its head. That wasn't one of the Dale Archers…

"Engage the orcs!" A new voice joined the fray of sound above the battlefield. Standing atop the last cart in the line was a green cloaked archer.

"For the NORTH! For the Lady!" Shouted a pair of hulking warriors in northern armor as they charged the scattered Orcs. Another warrior in a green cloak waded into the fight with a pair of short swords, while two more archers volleyed arrows into the orcs. Someone was sowing confusion in the orc ranks, stabbing from the shadows.

Bran swiftly pressed forward, running up and smashing yet another troll on the head. It rocked backwards, but kept its feat, smashing its flail into his shield. The blow nearly jarred the shield from his hand. Bran cursed, stepping back and hurling the shield at the beast, this time knocking it over. He ducked an orc as he caught his shield, kicking its feet out from beneath it. "Just give up already!" He yelled at it, whacking it repeatedly with his shield until it fell still. He wasn't sure if it was dead or not, but it was enough.

With the new warriors added into the fight, the trolls and orcs died or fled quickly, leaving Bran breathing hard but excited. Battle was always a rush. He turned swiftly to check on the wounds of his company, and count the dead.

"We lost four soldiers, and eight more are wounded, but will survive. The dwarves lost two, but have many more wounded," Baen said, approaching his brother as they tended the wounded. "This fight did not go as it should have. That was no normal orc raid pack. That was an organized force. We're just lucky they had no shaman or magic of any kind." Baen took a seat next to Bran, who did not respond, just looking at the doll in his hand.

The two were silent for a time, saying nothing. "Jessica's father is among the dead…" Bran finally said. He clutched the doll tighter. Tears fell on it and he did not wipe them away. "Maric is dead, Baen."

"I know… it will be hard to tell Jessie, especially after your… well, if you want, I can tell her upon our return," his brother offered, concern and sorry edging his voice.

Bran shook his head, and his voice shook as he spoke. "No… I must tell her. She already hates me, so it shouldn't be hard."

"She was your first crush, Bran, and it ended two years ago. He was a brave man who knew the risks," Baen offered, hoping to console his brother.

Bran said nothing, still crying. Finally, he wiped the tears from his eyes. "It is the first time I have lost a friend to battle, brother. I was… unprepared. I will tell her. It is a trial for me to overcome," he said. "I have to prove i'm strong enough to go out into the world. That includes doing difficult tasks. I'm a son of Bard, after all," he added, managing to smile as he looked at his brother. Baen could still see the tears, but said nothing.

He merely smiled in return, and stood, walking over to the leader of the company of warriors who had aided them. He clapped his brother on the shoulder as he stood, however, to let him know he believed in him.

Bran was grateful for it, and for his brother leaving. He wanted a moment alone, to think. Maric had taught him to fight. Maric had taught him to survive in the wild, to hunt, fight, how to lead men. Maric had been gruff, but kind to him. It had delighted him when Bran and his daughter had first begun courting, flirting. They'd been friends since childhood, and he'd always thought her pretty. But… it was clumsy, and awkward, when they began courting. Months afterwards, they fell apart, and though Bran still liked her, she moved on quickly. She became distant, cold to him even. She blamed him for leaving her, because he had. Bran had left her because he wanted something she wouldn't give. He'd learned better since then, learned to reign in his wild impulses, but… the betrayal in her eyes still haunted him sometimes, that he'd even asked had been so hurtful. Lust had blinded him, and cost him his first love.

Baen didn't know Bran had tried to get Jessica to sleep with him. He only knew Bran had angered her. Jessica wasn't that kind of girl, a cheap harlot on the street. If he wasn't willing to marry her, she said, before asking for that, he wasn't the kind of man she'd thought he was. He saw the female form as the true height of beauty, and he wished to see that in all its glory. To experience it for himself. So he'd gone out and found someone willing. The… pain when Jessica learned THAT… She'd never forgiven him. Maric had grown cold to him for a time, but he forgave more easily than his daughter.

Bran had sworn off women after Jessica left him. He'd resolved that next time, he wouldn't give in to his own desires, but… it was hard. So he'd found a boy, and they'd, well, he'd done with a man what he'd done with a woman, because he'd sworn off women. But, he liked women more, so…

That was why he had the brew. It released other things inside of him, but… it controlled his lust. He still _felt_ lust, rather strongly, but the brew gave him control of that urge. The other benefits, the strength, the endurance, the toughened skin, the speed, the enhanced senses, they were nice perks, but they were side effects. He'd created the brew to control himself. It let out his inner beast in the one place he felt safe to do so… battle. In battle, it was fine to be aggressive, to let the beast within take form. It let out all the things he held back the rest of the time. By letting it out in battle, he could hold back everywhere else. He could resist.

But it came too late, a lesson too long learning. Now Maric, his mentor, was dead. A troll had squashed him as he tried to kill it, a lucky blow more than anything else. Jessica, who already hated him, would hate him more. He'd betrayed her, then he'd let her father die. Bran sighed again, wiping his tears once more. Standing, he began to walk, tucking the doll, Maric's good luck symbol, into his pouch. He'd return it to Jessica on the return trip.

"... Only a day out. Keep on the road, and you'll reach Hammerfall by first light tomorrow, or late in the day if you camp for the night. About half the distance and you'll hit the areas that are heavily patrolled by our military. The orcs haven't tussled with anything inside our patrols for several weeks now, I find it unlikely they'll break that habit soon. I'm sorry we didn't arrive sooner," the green cloaked man said. He was speaking with Baen as Bran approached them.

"It's all right, you're arrival saved us much bloodshed. Your arrow likely saved my life, Nicolai. You don't have to call me Lord either. Call me Baen, please." Bran blinked. Baen almost never let people call him by his first name.

Nicolai laughed and smiled. "Of course, Baen. I must warn you though, I do not think this assault was random. The one I shot was a black cloak, one of the Horned King's assassins. You or your brother were his likely target, considering he ignored your dwarven companions entirely."

Baen nodded. "I wondered. I take it you've seen their kind before?"

"Oh yes. Pity my arrow killed her, it would have been good to question the woman," Nicolai said, indicating the body covered by a cloak near them. It was indeed a black cloak, the mark of the rumored assassins of the Horned King. Bran had not realized the rumors were real, but Nicolai seemed to treat it as simple fact.

"Ah, This is my brother, Bran," Baen said, introducing him as Bran approached.

Nicolai offered his hand, which Bran shook. "Lord Bran, a pleasure to meet you," he said with a sly grin. "I had heard rumors of your skill with a shield, it seems they were not false. A lucky day it was for me, to stumble across you now."

"Why is that?" Bran asked, curious, as he released Nicolai's hand, assessing the man.

"Well that is a tale for another time, though I'm certain you'll guess it long before we meet again," he said, with a grin. Baen too looked curiously at him, but Nicolai would say no more on the matter. "It is private, I'm afraid, I cannot discuss it right now. Please, though, I must beg your pardon, but we must continue on. My lady Careena has ordered us to find the enemy, and here we have a patrol and even an orc prisoner, though he seems to know little. We must continue our hunt, friends, so I will see you another day, in Hammerfall if that is where you are bound. May the light of the Valar sustain you," he said, bowing to them, before calling his company together.

Bran watched him go, confused. "Oh, poor Nicolai, so you're the lucky lad he's lost to," a voice said from behind him.

"Seems to be the case. Still, we'd best be going, George. Can't keep the boss waiting, can we? He'd never survive without us, afterall," an almost identical voice said from the other side. Bran whirled around, but no one was there. Baen too tried to spot the source, but could make no headway.

Suddenly a smaller man walked up, grabbing thin air, and with visible effort, began to haul something away. "OW! THAT Hurts!" protested the voices, as the man, whose face and neck were bound in cloth, dragged the voices away. As he did, something slipped, and Bran watched disembodied feet be half dragged away.

Bran watched the party leave. They were ordered out here by Careena… did he mean Careena du Tierethor? The firebrand Ranger? Judgeslayer? One of those called the Caravan Companions, or the Associates? The woman he'd been daydreaming about seeing this entire trip? "I really do want to find out just how many rumors are true," Bran muttered, walking off to join his brother, and resume the journey to Hammerfall and Andor's Royal Wedding.


End file.
